


Time of Our Lives

by finkpishnets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. It’s the summer of 1977, and four boys are about to learn just how much can change over the course of a night. Based on <i>Stories We Could Tell</i> by Tony Parsons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time of Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not going to lie; I kind of hate this story. I wrote the majority of it about five years ago and then recently decided that it really just needed to be finished and posted or it’d be one of those fics that sits in a folder and haunts you forever. The hardest part was that my writing style has changed so much since this was begun and trying to go back proved stupidly difficult. My hate of tenses, guys – there are no words! Incidentally, whilst I may love the bands mentioned in this fic, I don’t know everything ever there is to know about them, so I’m sorry for any mistakes made. Unbeta’d because by this point I just wanted rid of it.

Remus Lupin had always been nervous when it came to the unknown, and walking into _Beatnik_ , a place he’d only _dreamt_ of working for most of his life, was definitely the unknown.

“Well, this is your desk,” Caradoc Dearborn, the Editor, told him, waving a disinterested hand in the direction of the only empty corner of the room. “Everyone’s either out on assignment or still sleeping off their bloody hangovers. You’ll get used to that. If you need anything ask Lily Evans; she’s in charge of all the admin stuff that I can’t be fucked with. If you need any interviews set up then she’s your girl; bloody amazes me the amount of people that bird knows. Anyway, since it’s your first day, I’ll give you a chance to settle in. I want a piece on my desk by twelve tomorrow and no later. That’s me being kind. Now, don’t bother me unless it’s important – and that means if someone I actually give a flying fuck about is dying or if The Clash are breaking up. Got it?”

Remus nodded and watched in a daze as his new boss meandered off down the hall, obviously still suffering from the after effects of his own hangover.

For as long as Remus could remember music had been his life. He’d grown up surrounded by his dad’s jazz records and his mum’s penchant for the classics, their love for music inspiring his own. By the time he was a teenager he was saving up his pocket money and racing out at the weekend to buy a new record and a copy of _Beatnik_ , the only music paper worth reading.

And then the seventies erupted and the world became an amazing, intense, fucking _brilliant_ place full of music that set your pulse racing and your head spinning.

And Remus felt right at home.

That was when he knew that the only job he could do, the only job he’d be _happy_ with, was this one. A writer for the music paper he had idolised for years amongst the great names that had been imprinted on his brain for so long now; Frank Longbottom, Mad-Eye Moody, James Potter…

With a nervous breath, he moved to stand by his new desk, placing his palms down on the wood and feeling the rush of adrenaline. Dropping down into his chair, he took a good look around. One wall was made of glass and looked out onto the rest of the floor where other early risers were getting to work on their latest story or arranging the next day’s layout. The other two walls were decorated with band posters, set lists and old magazine clippings, all stuck up with small silver pins and overlapping one another. There was a slight difference in both, he noticed; whilst they were both as fabulously scattered and random as each other, one seemed to favour the older bands coming out of the sixties; a mixture of Beatles memorabilia mixed with the occasional image of The Who as the other praised the newer musicians currently making a way for themselves in the London music circuit – Siouxsie and the Banshees overlapped by The Hobbled Goblins.

He supposed it would take a while for his own wall to meet the same standard.

Remus’ attention was diverted when someone else made their way into the room, dropping a few folders on one of the overflowing desks and flopping down behind it tiredly, bringing their feet up to rest on the wooden surface. They didn’t seem to notice the other occupant and Remus coughed lightly to indicate his presence.

“Bloody hell! Sorry mate; didn’t expect anyone else to be here yet. Just got back from Camden; had to pull an all-nighter again and get a piece done on The Hepburn’s. I’ll tell you, there’s a band that won’t last a month. James Potter; reviews – you must be our new features boy.” He got to his feet and leant across his desk, stretching over to offer Remus his hand and shaking it cheerfully when the other boy responded.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Remus Lupin.” He couldn’t believe that he was sitting in a room with _the_ James Potter. This bloke was one of his _heroes_ , for Merlin’s sake!

“Jolly good, welcome and all that then. I hear you’re good. Bloody good, actually – Dearborn couldn’t stop raving about your application piece. Said he hadn’t read anything so good since before Mad-Eye Moody went insane. It made him ‘rethink The Jam’, he said. ‘They may be a bunch of tossers in suits when today’s scene is all about punk, but this Lupin kid makes them seem marginally alright. That’s a hell of an achievement!’” James imitated Dearborn almost perfectly, lowering his voice and booming loudly to which nobody save Remus responded.

“Well, The Jam are certainly not punk, but they take most of their influence from The Who and they’re a huge success. Besides, The Jam are from Woking and so's my family,” he blushed lightly.

“Too right, too right. Although don’t mention that to Pete; he’s a big Who fan, doesn’t like to think anyone could be better than them.” James winked and then picked up the folder in front of him, grabbed a notebook from one of his desk drawers and began absent-mindedly scribbling. Voices outside made him raise an eyebrow but not take his eyes off the page in front of him. “Speak of the devil.”

Two other guys about the same age as Remus and James entered the room then. One was about a head shorter, thin with blonde hair and a square jaw and was nodding along in agreement to what the other bloke was saying. The one talking had thick black hair that almost reached his collar and was gesturing emphatically along with his words.

The blonde noticed him first and interrupted his companion to greet him. “Hullo there, you must be the new guy. I’m Peter Pettigrew; columnist.” He nodded his head and grinned at Remus, dropping down into his own seat in front of a Beatles _Yellow Submarine_ poster.

“Oh, and this is Sirius Black,” James told his, waving his hand at the other guy. “He’s the papers…”

“Alright Jim, I _can_ speak for myself you know,” Sirius butted in. “Sirius Black, photographer.” He, like James, shook Remus’ hand and offered him a wide grin that showed off a set of perfectly straight, white teeth.

“Remus Lupin,” he said, much more shyly now that there were more people present and wondering, not for the first time, if he may be crazy to get himself into all this. He was just a kid from the London suburbs with a housewife for a mum and a factory worker for a dad. He was an only child and so had been protected an awful lot by his parents as he grew up, especially since he had that meningitis scare when he was seven and was ill for so long afterwards. Even though he was fine now, they were still constantly checking up on him and as such, the wildest thing he had done before his twentieth birthday was steal a couple of bottles of whiskey with his mate, Dave, from the local shop to drink behind the biggest trees in the park. Not particularly adventurous in comparison with these guys who were out everyday in clubs with rock stars, girls hanging on their arms and staying up all night to reach a deadline no matter how much they’d had to drink or how much speed they’d taken.

And now he was one of them.

Merlin, he could _really_ use a drink.

“So, you been given an assignment yet?” Peter asked as he took a few records out of his messenger bag and put them carefully on his desk, looking slightly nervous when Sirius picked them up and began skimming through them.

“No, not yet. Dearborn said I had until twelve tomorrow to give him a piece but he never said what on,” Remus gulped and then looked curiously at the other three guys who were staring at him wide eyed.

“Seriously? Just like that? No test runs or the like?” Remus shook his head. “Wow, you must be bloody good for him to have left you in the lurch like that.” At Remus’ nervous look, Peter continued. “Trust me, it’s a good thing. Means he likes you. Normally you have to have been writing for at least a couple of months before Dearborn’ll let you just wing it.”

Remus grimaced, still unable to see the good in the situation. “But where the hell am I supposed to start?”

Peter shrugged sympathetically and James narrowed his eyes in thought, leaning back in his chair.

“You could always tag along with me tonight if you want,” Sirius said after a minute, getting bored of reading the record sleeves. “I’m covering the Great Hall; there’s supposed to be a couple of good new names playing that Dumbledore’s thinking of signing.”

The Great Hall was one of the small but well-known joints off Covent Garden owned by the legendary Albus Dumbledore, head of Phoenix Records, _the_ record label to belong to if you wanted to be anybody. And if Dumbledore said that some of these guys were good then it was definitely worth checking out.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks,” Remus said with a half smile, wishing that he had something to occupy his hands with rather than sitting there like an idiot.

Sirius gave him a brief, blinding grin in reply. “Not a problem.”

 

+

 

James Potter jumped onto the bus just in time as the engine revved and it began to move. He dropped his fare into the drivers waiting hand and grinned in response at the rolled eyes and unimpressed clucking he received. The sun had only just begun to fade but James was feeling exhaustion creeping up on him; he hadn’t slept in three days now, minus the occasional short-lived nap on his desk, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go without collapsing where he stood. In this game you always had to be on your feet and aware, otherwise someone else would get there first and you’d be out of a job.

He was on his way home to change his clothes, say a brief ‘hello’ to his parents and then head back to the office to sit in one of the soundproofed cubicles and work his way through a bundle of records that Dearborn had dumped on him a few hours earlier. Logic should proclaim that he’d come across at least something half way decent in that lot, but he wasn’t holding his breath. He quite enjoyed having the time to himself though; usually he was an incredibly social person, loving big crowds and constant conversation, but every now and then it was nice to be able to escape, and what better way than through music, his one true love.

Well, next to Lily Evans that was.

Lily had been working at the paper a year longer than James and he remembered his first day, seeing her standing there, hand on her hip and red hair curling gloriously over her shoulders. She was feisty and intelligent and couldn’t _stand_ him and that made her oh so irresistible. Sirius and Pete were always taking the piss out of him for his one sided crush, especially since he’d started proclaiming that it was actually love and that he wouldn’t sleep with anyone else as it would feel like he was being unfaithful.

Actually, that was where Pete was now. Out of the three of them, it was the blonde boy who was most notoriously known for his womanising abilities. A lot of it was just exaggerated hype, but regardless of how many birds he slept with, it was proof positive of his charm that no girl ever hated him when he never called them again and all would smile sweetly when they saw him on the street. Jammy bugger. Right now he was off on a date with a chick called Rosmerta who ran a small bar up at London Bridge called The Three Broomsticks (due to its close proximity to The Globe Theatre) who was known, above all else, for her huge tits.

Sirius was off working, snapping pictures at the Great Hall and he’d taken the new kid, Lupin, with him. It was unusual, James thought, for Sirius to take to someone so quickly; since his family had disowned him when he’d announced that he’d rather be a photographer than a doctor, he’d always been distant from people he didn’t know well. He could turn on the charm as well as Peter when the situation required it, and his Greek god-like good looks meant that people were instantly drawn to him, but he only opened up and became truly himself around Peter and James.

Lupin seemed alright though; he obviously wasn’t a Londoner but he appeared to be smart and was clearly determined, a trait that you _had_ to have if you wanted to survive the life they lived. He’d have to have a proper chat with him at some point and see if he could be a potential friend – all signs were pointing to ‘yes’ but you could never be too sure. Take Severus Snape for example. James shuddered at the thought. He and Sirius, who had known each other all their lives, had met Snape at school and had initially thought he may be someone worth knowing. When the other boy announced that he thought music was a waste of time and that logical subjects like maths and science were much more substantial and worthwhile, the two friends had realised their mistake and disliked him ever since.

The bus pulled up to his stop and he saluted the driver as he hopped off, putting his hands in his pockets and whistling to himself as he walked the further two streets to his families rather large house in Blackheath. He, like Sirius, was from old money and they’d met as kids when they were sent to the same all boys Grammar school, however that’s where their families’ similarities ended. Whilst the Black’s were pretentious and bigoted, the Potter’s were warm and friendly. James’ mum ran a small youth club down in Deptford for kids with nowhere else to go and was also a trained nurse from her stint in Africa in her twenties which was where she’d met his dad, a fellow volunteer. When James had announced that he wanted to become a music journalist they had both smiled warmly and given their whole hearted blessings, even buying him a small flat close to the office so he wouldn’t have to make the regular trek back and forth. A lot of his belongings were still in his old room though: his mum’s way of making sure he came home at least once a week to check in, and James found that he was always cheery to do so. Especially when she cooked.

Opening the door and making his way inside, he called out a loud greeting to announce his presence and kicked his shoes off into the hallway.

“James, darling,” his mum smiled, sticking her head out of the kitchen and beckoning him to join her. “Nice of you to join us.”

“Thought I’d pop in and persuade you to feed me,” he gave her a wide grin and kissed her cheek before grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge and pouring himself a beaker full, gulping it down and then refilling it.

“Good timing. We’re having pasta tonight; set yourself a place at the table,” she brought an extra plate down from the cupboard behind her and handed it to James. “Sirius not with you?”

All through school Sirius used to escape to James’ house when his family became too much for him and the Potter’s had taken him under their wing as another son ever since. When he was first disowned, they had made an extra room up for him and told him they wouldn’t take no for an answer, and later they had offered to help him financially with whatever he needed. When Sirius had gotten a job on the paper alongside James, he had moved in with him and it was just like it always had been.

“Nah, he’s working tonight at the Great Hall. Took the new lad with him.”

“New lad? Oh, the one replacing what’s-his-name?”

“Yeah, on features. Name’s Remus Lupin. Seems like an alright chap, Sirius warmed to him quickly which must say something.” Impatiently, he stuck his finger into the sauce pot only to be simultaneously burnt and hit. “Ow!”

“Serves you right. Well, if Sirius likes him then I’m sure he must be something special. You should invite him for dinner one evening so I can get to know him. And Sirius and Peter will have to come too, of course.”

“Sure. So, where’s dad?”

“Oh, he’s in his study writing up some reports. He’ll be down in a minute. So, whilst we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me more about this Lily girl you’re always mentioning…”

 

+

 

“Apparently there’s gonna be quite a lot of Slytherin’s hanging around the area tonight so it’s worth being on your guard,” Sirius told Remus as they walked along the busy streets, enjoying the warm evening air.

“Slytherin’s?” Remus asked, confused.

Sirius looked at him out of the corner of his eye and gave a disbelieving snort. “Boy, you really _are_ new to all this, aren’t you? OK, there’s the Slytherin’s, the Hufflepuff’s, the Ravenclaw’s and the Gryffindor’s. We’re the latter, the ones interested in the current music scene and willing to state an opinion on it. The Ravenclaw’s are the intellectuals. You’ll see them around the jazz bars and opera houses but occasionally they’ll stick their beaks elsewhere. Not a bad lot and willing to give anything a shot. The Hufflepuff’s are the disco crowd; the whole big hair, white clothes and crappy excuse for music scene. The one thing you can say for them is that at least they really love music; not the right sort, but music all the same. That and they’re a generally okay crowd to talk to should you run into them.”

He paused for breath and his face turned into a scowl.

“And then there’s the Slytherin’s. They’re thugs, to put it simply. The one’s that’ll beat up anyone wearing something they don’t approve of or listening to music they don’t like. They hang out around the big clubs hoping to start a fight; most people know to steer clear of them but they like to mess with us, particularly those of us from _Beatnik_ , because we don’t take any of their shit. That and James wrote a totally scathing review of Riddle a while back.”

Remus had heard of Riddle, the lead singer for Voldemort, an up and coming band who took the whole violence movement much too far. He was a pale, snake like bloke who should probably be much too old to be on stage, but for some reason people flocked to either watch him or flee him.

“That guy is a serious psycho. He did a gig at the Underground last month and started showing off these tattoos that he and the rest of the band had got – this great, ugly skull and snake type thing – right on their forearms, and then offering them to his ‘followers’. He calls them his Death Eaters. And the worst part is, people were actually queuing up to get them. Talk about pathetic.”

They’d reached Leicester Square now and were just making the last stretch of their journey.

“So,” Sirius said after a few moments. “How do you like _Beatnik_ so far?”

Remus offered him a huge grin. “It’s absolutely brilliant and absolutely terrifying.”

Sirius laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean; my first day I spilt coffee all down Dearborn’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt and then met Bowie half an hour later. It was like, I was this clumsy kid and yet someone trusted me to take pictures of the legends! Just about blew my mind.”

“You met Bowie on your first day?” Remus asked, incredulously.

“Yep, just about the greatest moment of my entire life. Of course, I spent most of it mumbling like a complete idiot. The photos came out great though, luckily.”

Remus really wasn’t sure what to make of Sirius; he was obviously smart, friendly, and ridiculously good looking, but he acted as though he weren’t. It was either incredible modesty or the bloke genuinely had no clue. Remus wasn’t sure which yet.

“Have you always wanted to be a photographer?” Remus asked eyeing the satchel swung over Sirius’ shoulder in interested.

“Nah, I wanted to be a truck driver as a kid, a fireman until I was twelve, and a singer until I was fifteen before I realised that I was tone deaf.” He grinned. “Oh, and there was a brief interval at age eight when I wanted to be Action Man.”

Remus laughed. “Action Man, huh?”

Sirius nodded sincerely. “Oh yes, I remember it clearly. Christmas of 1966 I got one from my Uncle; couldn’t put the thing down for weeks. Made my parents buy me camouflage trousers from an army surplus store which were, of course, _much_ too big for me but I didn’t care. Lasted until I got laughed at by some boys at school who said I was playing with dolls. Now I know they were just jealous, but at the _time_...” he shook his head, “Serious blow to my masculinity.”

“Ah, I see,” Remus said dryly, “the woes of an eight year old. So, did your parents think you were going to join the army?”

Sirius tensed up slightly and when he spoke it was with forced casualness. “Nah, my parents wanted me to be a doctor. Were pretty insistent on it, actually, but I’ve never much been one to do what other people tell me to. Caused mayhem all through school, Jim and I. We had more detentions than any other students in the history of the place, if I remember rightly. The teachers still loved us though. I believe the words ‘cheeky’ and ‘hearts of gold’ were used.”

The crowds of people had begun to increase, and the two boys pushed their way forward. Looking up, Remus found himself standing directly outside the Great Hall; the dark brick, bright neon lights, and masses of teenagers all dressed in a multitude of creative ways stood before him. He felt a spark of adrenaline shoot down his spine.

“Come on,” Sirius said with a grin, watching Remus from the corner of his eye. Remus stayed close as they moved towards the entrance, dozens of people waiting to be let in as a couple of young burly men dressed all in black kept them at bay. “Hey Ed!” Sirius greeted, slapping one of the men lightly on the shoulder and offering him a friendly smile.

“Alrigh’ Sirius?” the man, Ed, replied, offering a wide smile which lit up his previously stony face.

“I’m good, mate. Here to take some shots for the paper. This is Remus Lupin, the new guy. Remus, Edgar Bones.”

“Hi,” Remus said, shaking the hand Edgar offered and watching as the other man appraised him.

“Go on in then, lads,” Edgar said, standing aside for them to pass, and then, under his breath, “be careful tonight, there’ve been some badun’s hangin’ round.”

“Thanks, Ed,” Sirius said sincerely, walking past and into the club, Remus at his side. “We’ll catch you later.”

 

+

 

“ _Sally, take my hand. We’ll travel south cross land…_ ” Peter Pettigrew sang under his breath, cheerily making his way out of London Bridge station and heading towards the river. He was looking forward to his date with Rosmerta; she was pretty and interesting to talk to, not to mention she had the biggest tits he’d ever seen. She owned a pub so he figured he should probably take her out somewhere a bit different, maybe a restaurant or something – of course, he’d much rather take her to see the Prewett Brothers performing in Camden but he really didn’t know if that was her scene or not.

Of course, if she didn’t like the Prewett Brothers then he wasn’t sure he really wanted to go out with her in the first place. That was the problem with doing the job he did; music became the central meaning of life – there was the music you loved, the music you hated, and the music that you were fairly indifferent to, with a hundred different levels in between – but music did mean everything. Consequently, it was very difficult going out with someone who didn’t get it. Most people owned a couple or records, listened to the radio on their lunch breaks and in the evening, and read about what was new out in the sidelines of the Sunday paper. Which, as far as Peter was concerned, was sacrilege.

As he took the next corner his previously pleasant mood promptly evaporated and he stopped dead in his tracks. Not twenty feet ahead of him were a gang of six tall, shaven headed blokes, all sporting dark, heavy jackets and huge biker boots. And he’d bet a year’s wages that they all had hideous snake-like tattoos immortalised on their forearms.

“Shit!” Peter muttered, eyes darting around for an inconspicuous escape route before they caught sight of him.

No such luck.

“Oy, you!” one of them sneered, dropping a cigarette to the ground and grinding it beneath his foot. Peter thought he recognised him; a thug by the name of Goyle, one of Riddle’s fans. Not that that made him feel even remotely better.

The other five had spotted him now, and the whole group was stalking towards him – Peter got the strange sensation that he was prey – each of them wearing the same twisted expression that wouldn’t have looked good on a _handsome_ man, let alone anyone as fuck ugly as this lot. Still, they were trying to be intimidating and it sure as hell was working.

Doing the only sensible thing, Peter turned and legged it, pushing his way past a group of business men our for after-work drinks, and a couple who were too busy snogging to notice the young man sprinting in their direction until he’d accidently knocked them into a middle aged man walking his dog. Shouting back a hurried ‘ _Sorry!_ ’ Peter kept going; not stopping until he’d pushed passed the barriers at the tube station and dug in his pocket to find his ticket.

Squeezing his way through the crowds, he made it down to the platform, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the Northern Line train to arrive. He could see the thugs to his right, trying to push through the heaving masses and he knew that, give it another minute, they’d be on him. And he didn’t like the odds.

The screeching sound of wheels on track surged through Peter in relief and he began to move with the people around him, making sure he stayed as near to the doors as possible whilst remaining surrounded. He could see the gang getting on the next carriage down, watching him through the window in the separating door and smirking widely. They couldn’t get to him until he got off the train which gave him a few minutes to think. These guys really were like predators; they’d picked up on his scent now and, chances were, they weren’t going to stop until they’d caught up with him. Luckily, Peter was resourceful, and he knew that if he could just get to an area he knew well then he’d be able to lose them. Hopefully by tomorrow they’d be starting on someone else and would have forgotten he even existed, but for tonight he needed to stay low and out of their way.

As the train pulled into Bank, Peter waited, staying exactly where he was until people had gotten off and another load had got on. Just as the doors were closing, he ran, sprinting down the corridors of people and, as luck would have it, straight onto the Central line train which closed its doors immediately behind him. Resting his hands on his knees and taking several deep breaths, he looked up at the people still on the platform, smiling pleasantly at the thugs who faded into the distance as the train rumbled on.

 

+

 

James sighed happily as he stretched out on the bus seat, enjoying the full sensation his mothers cooking always left him with. It had been nice catching up with his mum and dad, hearing them talk about their charity work and their friends, and telling them about the latest gigs he’d been to and the records he wanted to get next.

Still, now he had to get back to work, finish off the reviews, and only then may he _finally_ be able to catch some sleep. If something else didn’t come up in the meantime.

Getting off three stops early, he decided to stop by the late night bakery and pick up some snacks to see him through ‘till he was able to get home. And maybe some of Lou’s cherry pie for Lily, since it was her favourite and he happened to be passing and all...

Not looking where he was going, James opened the door only to walk straight into someone coming from the other direction.

“Sorry!” James apologised, picking up the paper bag that had been dropped in the exchange and handing it back, only to realise that the person he’d practically run over happened to be the same person that had been occupying his thoughts as he’d done so. “Lily!”

Lily frowned, rubbing her elbow where she’d knocked it against the door frame. “Potter.”

“Um,” James stuttered lamely, not knowing quite what to say. “How are you?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Good, that’s...good.”

“Yes, I certainly think so.”

James resisted the urge to turn around and begin banging his head against the marble counter. He wasn’t quite sure what it was about Lily that turned him into a bumbling idiot, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. Except possibly knock himself out so he couldn’t talk in the first place and continue making her think that he was a moron.

Just when James was actually seriously considering the knocking himself unconscious option, there was a screech of tires and a shout from the road. Spinning around, both James and Lily ran outside to see what all the commotion was about, staring in disbelief at the sight of a young boy crumpled and bleeding on the curb as a red Ford sped off down the street.

Lily came out of her stupor first, grabbing a pen from her purse and writing down the number plate on the back of her hand as fast as she could before the car disappeared. James ran over to the young boy, kneeling down on the pavement and automatically checking for a pulse, releasing a breath of relief as he found it; it was weak but it was there.

“Lily!” he yelled, “Call an ambulance!”

Lily ran back into the bakery to use their phone whilst James stayed with the lad, checking his injuries but knowing enough not to move him. There was a serious gash on his head from the fall, and he probably had a couple of broken ribs at the very least. His leg was twisted at an odd angle, and a pool of blood was beginning to form from the back of his skull, turning his blond hair pink.

“It’s going to be alright,” James told the boy, who couldn’t be more than sixteen. “An ambulance is on the way. You’re going to be alright.”

The boy let out a strangled moan, shutting his eyes tightly in pain.

“What’s your name?” James asked, trying to keep the boy awake.

“Benjy,” the boy choked out, and it sounded like it took everything he had just to say it. “Fenwick.”

“Well Benjy, you’re going to be alright.” James could see Benjy falling into unconsciousness and reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently, before uttering a soft assurance which he hoped wasn’t a lie; “I promise.”

“They’ll be here soon,” Lily told him upon her return, kneeling down next to him on the pavement and reaching out to take the boy’s other hand.

James hoped it would be soon enough.

 

+

 

“These guys are _good!_ ” Remus shouted over the pulsing music, leaning forward against the balcony railing and taking a swig of the beer Sirius had just bought him.

“Yeah, they are.” Sirius grinned as he watched Remus re-immerse himself in the band, nodding his head in time to the beat whilst staying cool and collect the way an employee of the music world was supposed to. Sirius was impressed; it usually took folks weeks, sometimes months, before they began to take a step back from the music, enjoying it whilst remaining on the outside as a critical observer. Not that they weren’t all giddy on the inside.

Sirius wasn’t sure what it was, but the minute he’d walked into the office that morning to be introduced to the new guy, he’d known there was something different about Remus Lupin. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed genuinely in awe by his surroundings, not yet tainted by the cynicism that came with the business, or maybe it was because of the way he’d smiled when Sirius had offered him the chance to tag along tonight. Whatever it was, Sirius Black was intrigued by Remus Lupin, and that didn’t happen very often.

Sirius liked people well enough...well, most people...he just knew that some people were worth befriending whilst others weren’t. He didn’t need a lot of friends; he had Jim and Pete and sometimes Lily when she wasn’t in a strop, and then there were the acquaintances he’d met over the two years he’d been working for _Beatnik_ who weren’t self absorbed and purely focused on increasing their own fame. He rather thought that Remus would be a good addition to the list.

And it had hardly anything to do with how incredibly attracted to him Sirius was, with his shaggy, light brown hair that hung messily over his ears, and his unusual amber eyes, and his chiselled features and just the other side of lanky frame...

“Oy, Black!”

Sirius spun around, almost colliding with Dedalus Diggle who was grinning happily behind him, his hair dyed it’s trademark shade of violet, and wearing a pair of old golfers trousers and a tight green shirt which all clashed terribly.

“Hey Dig,” Sirius greeted with a smile.

“Hi,” Dig nodded to Remus who offered him a friendly nod before turning back to the stage. Dig gave Sirius a look before flicking his gaze to Remus and then back again. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“How’s it going?” Sirius asked, raising his voice to be heard.

“Yeah, good,” Dig told him. “Working for Old McGoogles over at the Bell for a bit.”

“Yeah?” McGoogles, aka Minerva McGonagall, was a strict but pretty woman in her thirties who ran the Bell, a small music store that doubled up as a selection of practise rooms for musicians in training. That and everyone was pretty sure she was having an affair with Aberforth Dumbledore, the great Albus Dumbledore’s brother. Made her a bit of a legend.

“Yeah...”

“I think I’m going to do my article on them,” Remus interrupted, turning around as the band made their way off stage. “Maybe. What do you think?” He looked at Sirius.

“Maybe. I think you should wait till you’ve heard McKinnon’s band before you decide; trust me when I say that girl will blow your mind!”

Remus laughed. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” He took another swig of his beer, and Sirius couldn’t help but notice the way a few drops caught on his top lip, especially when Remus proceeded to stick his tongue out and lick them off in a way that Sirius thought probably shouldn’t be completely sexy as hell but really was.

“Um, you know, I think I see...yeah, I’m gonna go. Bye.” Dig said, turning and disappearing into the crowd before either Sirius or Remus had a chance to respond. Sirius just shrugged but Remus raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Dedalus Diggle. Dig.”

“How do you guys know each other?” Remus asked, casually.

Well, that was a question and a half. No time like the present to bite the bullet.

“We went out for a bit,” Sirius told him, watching Remus’ reaction carefully. Remus looked surprised for all of two seconds before he nodded and went back to his beer. Sirius grinned.

“How long?” Remus asked.

“A couple of months. It wasn’t anything really; Dig’s a bit of a closet case. Not that I can blame him; it’s not something you really want to go around publicising, but it definitely put a bit of a damper on the whole thing.”

“I bet.”

“So, how about you? Girlfriend?” Sirius asked, not really wanting to know but feeling it was only polite. He could just imagine Remus having some beautiful home type girl, probably blonde, who cooked and painted and all that stuff. Someone sweet and innocent and completely in love with him.

Remus laughed lightly. “No, no girlfriend. No boyfriend either, in case you were wondering.”

Sirius blushed. “No...I didn’t mean...I wasn’t...”

Remus chuckled, “I’m just kidding. I’ve never really been out with anyone before. My parents were really protective of me growing up so I never really had the opportunity, and I’ve only just moved to London, so...” he trailed off, offering him a small, shy smile which Sirius thought may possibly be the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

“Yeah, I didn’t really go out with anyone till I moved in with the Potter’s and even then it was more groping behind the bike sheds at the park and stealing a quick snog at parties. Wasn’t until Jim and I got our own flat that I was able to have a bit of a love life.”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up under his fringe. “Oh...are you and James...?”

Sirius snorted. “ _What?_ No! _No_ , Jim is completely straight. He’s been in love with Lily Evan’s for the past two years. And besides,” he smiled, “he’s really not my type.”

“Sorry, it just sounded like...well, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it. Trust me, you’re not the first person to make that mistake. Nah, James is my brother even more than my real brother is.”

“Your real brother?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, Regulus. My parents’ favourite,” Sirius said bitterly, and Remus sensibly decided to change the subject.

“So, what time is McKinnon’s band on?”

“Probably not till about two. Looks like we’re settling in for the long haul.”

 

+

 

After switching onto the Piccadilly line at Holborn, Peter found himself on more familiar ground as he wandered around Covent Garden, smiling politely at a Ravenclaw heading towards the opera house. His night had pretty much been destroyed thanks to the thugs, and it was doubtful that Rosmerta would accept his apology without a lot of grovelling, and Peter wasn’t sure he liked the girl enough for that. Dropping down on a bench, he ran his hand through his blond hair and let out a tired sigh.

A group of teenagers he sort of recognised waved at him as they walked passed, all sporting dyed hair and tight jeans. He waved back, and then realised where they must be heading; the Great Hall was just around the corner, and Sirius and the new guy, Remus, would be there. Making the decision, he stood up and walked forwards, turning the corner and meandering his way through the crowds.

“Pete,” Edgar Bones greeted as he came into sight, ignoring the young girl standing next to him wearing a lot of black eye make-up and a skirt that showed off her knickers, who was obviously trying to talk her way in despite being clearly underage.

“Alright, Ed? You seen Sirius yet?” Peter asked, barely sparing a glance for the girl who was now glaring at him.

“Yeah, arrived about an hour ago with the new kid. Wanna go find them?”

“Cheers,” Peter grinned as Edgar let him through. “Give my love to your sister!”

Edgar snorted, “Don’t know why she still talks to you, mate.”

“Ah, they all love me,” he winked, waved goodbye, and walked into the club.

As soon as he got through the doors he was hit with the familiar smell of sweat, smoke, and stale beer; when you worked in the music business you spent so much time in places like this that the smell almost became something normal, something that triggered a sense of excitement as to what was to come but also made you feel at home. Peter sort of loved that smell.

The band on stage was good but not great, mixing up a few styles in an attempt to be original and not quite making it. Peter pushed through, looking around him for Sirius and Remus, greeting a few people with a nod and a smile as they called his name.

“Hey, Pettigrew,” Dig shouted from where he was dancing wildly with a young dark haired guy and a pink haired girl.

“Hey Dig. You seen Sirius around here anywhere?”

A strange look crossed Dig’s face before he pointed up towards the balcony. “Yeah, saw him and another guy up there about twenty minutes ago. Doubt they’ll have moved.”

“Thanks,” Peter said before making his way to the stairs. Sure enough, as he got half way up he was able to spot Sirius and Remus, leaning against the railing and chatting happily. Peter grinned; it wasn’t usual for Sirius to take to someone this quickly. That and Pete was pretty sure from their interaction in the office that morning that Sirius fancied the pants off the poor guy.

“’Lo,” he said, joining them.

“What’re _you_ doing here?” Sirius asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be off on a date with Rosmerta?” He emphasised her name with a crude action in front of his chest.

“Meant to be but I ran into some trouble as soon as I got to London Bridge. Death Eaters.”

“Shit,” Sirius said, sympathetically. Remus just offered him a small smile. “You’d better keep a low profile tonight then.”

Peter sighed. “That’s the plan. So, Remus, enjoying your first night on the job?”

Remus grinned widely. “Loving it! The second band was great, really something, but I’ve been told I have to wait and hear McKinnon.”

“Definitely! McKinnon’s _brilliant_ ,” Peter backed up, as Sirius nodded. “In fact, what’s she doing performing tonight? Dumbledore’s already taken her on.”

“A favour maybe? Build up the talent? I don’t know,” Sirius shook his head. “Whatever the reason, she is and it’s bound to be the best show of the night.”

“No question. Unless there really _has_ been some talent hiding out there.”

“We’re gonna go kick some kids out of some seats,” Sirius said. “You coming?”

Peter shook his head. “I’m going to get a drink first. I’ll come find you guys after.”

“Cool,” Sirius said, walking towards the stairs, Remus following after him. Peter began to make his way towards the bar, greeting more people that he was sure he didn’t know but seemed to know him. It was only when he was about two feet from his destination that he realised the thugs that had been chasing him earlier that afternoon were already there, this time with another four of their friends. Definitely not fair odds.

Changing course, Peter headed back towards the stairs, not stopping to let Sirius or Remus know what was happening (which, on second thought, probably would have been a good idea, but it was too late for that now). The thugs were on his tail, only a couple of people between him and them. Heading straight for the door, Peter barged his way through, not giving a shit about the glares and curses he received in response.

As soon as he got outside he called out to Edgar, “Hey, Death Eaters, right behind me. Block them off for a bit, would you?” and took off as fast his could, hoping to get some distance between him and them.

He didn’t bother to look back, just kept on running not even sure where exactly he was anymore. Rounding yet another corner, he blinked and skidded to a halt. All around him was white. It took him a moment to realise that he must have stumbled into a Hufflepuff zone; a huge crowd of young people were all dressed head to toe in white, silver, and gold, with big make-up and even bigger hair. They were standing in front of a club which had a huge, pink neon sign flashing the name ‘Fever’. A few people eyed him strangely but generally no one paid him any attention.

Before he really thought about what he was doing, he ducked inside the club, cautiously handing over a couple of quid for the entrance fee and then disappearing into the crowd. He couldn’t be certain, but he was pretty sure he’d be safe in here; there was very little chance that the Death Eaters would want to come into disco territory, and if they did they’d probably be kicked out quickly.

A female voice was declaring ‘ _If I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody, baby_ ’ over the speakers whilst a DJ worked the records from up on a balcony. The dance floor flashed in a multitude of different covers as people moved precisely (it had been a long time since he’d seen anyone _actually_ dance as opposed to jump up and down like a pogo stick), and Peter was pretty sure that if he didn’t get a drink in him soon he was going to go blind from it all. Finding the bar was a fairly easy task – whilst the place was full, it didn’t hit the same level of the clubs Peter was used to – and as soon as he did the bartender walked over and asked what he could get him. Not really knowing what the disco crowd drank, but seeing all the neatly arranged optics, he ordered a gin and tonic and winced at his first sip. He wasn’t really one for spirits.

Jumping up onto one of the high bar stools, Peter eyed the place speculatively. It was a new experience for him, being in a disco club, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was one he wanted to repeat. It didn’t seem like a _bad_ place, but the music was too ballad-like for him, too much about love and romance and dancing, and not enough about passion and violence and the pure thrill of a guitar chord. But he would much rather spend his entire life here than go to a Voldemort gig, so that had to say something.

A group of young people were doing a complicated dance routine a few feet in front of him, all of them concentrating but smiling, and Peter found himself watching them as they moved around one another, swinging their hips and swaying their arms.

And then he spat out a mouthful of gin and tonic when he realised that he actually knew one of the dancers.

Getting up, he walked towards the dance floor, careful not to bump into anyone and throw off their ‘groove’. Moving towards the group he’d just been watching, he tapped one of the guys on the shoulder, jumping out of the way when he spun around doing some sort of twirl with his arms before stopping in his tracks.

“Kingsley,” Peter grinned, raising an eyebrow at the tall, black guy in front of him.

“P..Pete...Hey,” Kingsley stuttered, before grinning sheepishly.

Peter knew Kingsley Shacklebolt from school and had kept in touch with him afterwards, introducing him to James and Sirius, and now the four of them often hung out together for drinks or at a gig. Kingsley stood about six foot four and had short dark hair, brown eyes, and could kick the shit out of anyone that tried it on, or just pissed him off. Seeing the bloke now dressed in a gold shirt under a white suit, big jewellery hanging from his neck and his wrists, Peter held back the urge to laugh.

“Nice outfit,” Pete snorted before schooling his features back into a casual grin.

“Thanks,” Kingsley said, sticking his hand in his trouser pockets. “Uh, what are you doing here? Not exactly your scene.”

“Didn’t think it was yours, either,” Peter pointed out. “I kind of ended up here by accident. I was being chased by a group of Death Eaters and looking for somewhere to hide. Seemed as good as any.”

“Yeah? If they come anywhere near here I’ll kick them from here till Sunday,” Kingsley responded with a scowl.

“Cheers,” Peter grinned. Everyone had continued dancing around them, but now the song had changed (something about ‘ _Jive talking_ ’) and the group that Kingsley was with turned their attention back to him, looking Peter up and down bemusedly. One of the girls, about five foot four and wearing a tiny silver dress with giant hoop earrings, put her arm through Kingsley’s and gave him a look.

“Oh, right, Peter Pettigrew, this is Emmeline Vance, my girlfriend. Em, this is Pete – we went to school together,” Kingsley said, gesturing between the two. Emmeline offered Peter a small but honest smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

“You too.”

“You don’t normally come to places like this, do you?” she asked, eyeing his ripped jeans, cowboy boots, and faded Who t-shirt.

“Can’t say I do. Still, it doesn’t look too bad,” he grinned, laying on the charm.

She giggled. “Well, I’m sure someone will teach you a few steps later.” The music changed again and she let out a small squeal. “Oh! I love this song. Come on, Kings.”

Peter laughed as Kingsley was dragged out into the middle of the floor by his girlfriend, watching as they performed some sort of side step twirl thing that left Peter blinking. Turning back to the bar, he ordered another gin and tonic, and then stopped short.

Standing one place further up the bar, wearing a tight white dress, her dark blonde hair curling down to her shoulders, was the most beautiful girl Peter had seen in his entire life. She was laughing at something the short, black haired girl next to her was saying, and her face lit up completely. She looked like an angel. Her friend said something else and then walked off, but Peter couldn’t avert his eyes. Sensing someone staring, she looked up and caught his gaze. Feeling a blush rising up the back of his neck, Peter turned away, only to look back up moments later when she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hi,” she said, red lips tugging up into a smile. “I’m Dorcas Meadowes.”

 

+

 

The trip to the hospital seemed to take forever. Lily persuaded the driver to let both her and James come in the ambulance with Benjy, using all her perfectly toned skills of influence until they were on their way, both still holding his hands. Finally the sirens wailed to a halt and the back doors were flung open; James and Lily stood back as Benjy was lowered down on to a stretcher and a collection of medics began to take a look at him.

“It was a hit and run?” one of the nurses asked and they both nodded. “Do you know who he is?”

“Benjy Fenwick,” James told her. “He said his name was Benjy Fenwick.”

“Alright; the police will want to have a word with you and take your statements. Go sit in the waiting room and someone will keep you informed. I can’t tell you anymore than Mr Fenwick’s condition without you being family.”

James and Lily nodded again in understanding. It seemed to James that they were doing a lot of nodding and standing around without being able to _do_ anything. He wasn’t used to this, to feeling so completely _useless_. When they got to the waiting room, Lily sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic seats and James dropped down next to her, resting his head in his hands and massaging his temples. He was getting a headache.

“James,” Lily whispered after a few minutes. “Who would do that? Who would run over a kid and not even stop to check they were alright?” Her voice was choked and James was pretty sure she was trying to hold in a breakdown.

“I don’t know, Lils. There are a lot of shitty people in the world.”

With a dry sob, Lily buried her head in his shoulder and began to cry, and James wrapped his arms around her shoulders, letting his own tears seep through closed eyelids. He was exhausted, he had a headache, and now there was a young boy who could very well be dying that he felt incredibly responsible for. He was too distraught to even be more than vaguely pleased at having Lily in his arms.

“Were you the two who found the hit and run victim?” a deep voice asked, and James opened his eyes to see a policeman standing in front of them.

“Yes,” he replied, his throat dry.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the policeman asked, taking a seat opposite them. Lily continued to cry.

“We were in the doorway to Lou’s bakery chatting when we heard tyres screeching and someone cry out. Lily and I ran outside to see a car speeding off and a young boy lying at the side of the road. Lily took down the number plate whilst I checked on the boy. He looked really bad.” James took a deep breath, remembering the way Benjy’s hair had begun turning pink from the blood. “I sent Lily back to the bakery to call for an ambulance whilst I sat with him. He told me his name was Benjy Fenwick.”

“Benjy Fenwick? Okay. And you said that this young lady took down the number plate?” The policeman seemed relieved and a little impressed, as if he didn’t expect two young people looking like them to think that far ahead.

Lily sat up, wiping her eyes with her sleeve before offering the policeman a watery smile. “Yes,” she told him, offering out her hand. The policeman jotted down the series of numbers and letters in his notebook, returning Lily’s smile.

“That’s excellent. Thank you; you both did the right thing. Do you want to stay to see how Mr Fenwick’s doing or do you need to be getting off? I’ll need to take down your contact details whatever.”

“We’re going to stay,” James told him, replying for both of them, and Lily just nodded. The policemen smiled again, looking at them both with something a bit more akin to respect.

“Very well. I’ll make sure the nurse lets you know what happens.” The policeman stood up, offering them both a final nod before making his way over to the nurse’s station.

“He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?” Lily asked, looking down at her boots.

“I don’t know,” James told her, honestly. “I hope so.”

 

+

 

“Man!” Remus yelled excitedly, running his hands through his hair in a gesture of exhilaration. “ _Man!_ ”

“I told you!” Sirius shouted, laughing joyfully and swinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “I bloody told you!”

“That was _so fucking awesome!_ ” Remus cheered, clinking his glass against Sirius’ companionably.

“You know, we make a fantastic team,” Sirius told him as they fell back onto the old sofa they’d been occupying.

“We really do,” Remus agreed, offering him a smile bigger than any he’d given since arriving in London.

McKinnon had been _incredible_ , and the club had gone absolutely insane. Remus and Sirius, both getting the beginning sensation of a buzz from their fifth beers, had loved every second, jumping up and down wildly to the killer guitar and the frantic drumbeat, completely seduced by Marlene McKinnon’s gravelly, harsh voice. Both of them were enjoying the others company immensely, but now it was half past one and they were still riding out the high.

“Let’s get out of here before the masses start moving,” Sirius said, standing up too quickly and blinking back the dizzy feeling that hit him. Remus laughed, steadying him by the arm before guiding them towards the door.

Outside they were suddenly hit with the evening air, still warm despite the hour, but cooling against their skin after the sauna of the club. Edgar was no longer manning the door, and Sirius only had to shout a few goodbyes to people that called out to him.

“Who were they?” Remus asked, nodding in the direction of two guys and a girl who had just waved at them.

“No idea,” Sirius laughed. “It gets like that sometime; people seem to know you even if you’d swear blindly you’ve never met. It’s part of working at the paper.”

They walked for a few minutes, neither particularly caring in what direction.

“Where to now?” Remus asked after a while, hoping that he didn’t sound too desperate to keep the night going. Luckily, Sirius just grinned.

“No clue. Fancy something to eat?”

“Sure, but what’s going to be open at a quarter to four in the morning?”

Sirius laughed. “Oh you poor, naive boy. Come on.” He grabbed Remus’ elbow and began dragging him down a couple of side roads until they were stood outside a cafe with its lights still on, a neon sign advertising ‘The Palace’. Personally, Remus couldn’t see any resemblance between the strobe lighted diner and a house of royalty, but he was starving and the place was open.

Once inside they grabbed a table, opening up a grease stained menu and choosing what they wanted before Sirius went up to order, insisting he buy as it was Remus’ first night out on the job and all, and returning with two mugs of watery coffee.

“I hope you take milk,” Sirius said, placing one in front of Remus who nodded before adding three sugars to his, much to Sirius’ amusement. “Sweet tooth?”

“Terribly. I’m completely addicted to chocolate. My mum used to hate it.”

A middle aged waitress in an ugly, pinstriped uniform brought their food over before disappearing out back where they could faintly hear a radio playing.

“I’m not even tired,” Remus said after they’d tucked in, both dousing their eggs and bacon in ketchup. “Which I suppose is a good thing since I still have to actually go and _write_ this article.”

“Ah, this is nothing,” Sirius told him, popping a tomato into his mouth. “Eventually you’ll learn how to run days without sleep. Like, right now, I’m pretty sure Jim hasn’t slept in three, and that’s a _good_ run.”

Remus raised his eyebrow. “I guess I’m going to have to drink a _lot_ of coffee then.”

Whilst they ate, Sirius told Remus all about the different folk that worked at _Beatnik_ , about the Potter’s, and a little about his own family. In return, Remus told him all about his illness as a kid, his parents’ over protectiveness, and how he’d always, _always_ , wanted to write for _Beatnik_.

“Want to just go for a walk or something?” Sirius asked when they’d both finished.

“Sure.”

“Where d’you suppose Peter got to?” Remus asked a few moments later as they wandered aimlessly through almost deserted streets.

“No clue. He either scored or got into trouble – he’s famous on both counts – but I’m sure he’s all right. He has a talent for getting out of tight spots.”

“You know, I think this is the most adventurous night I’ve ever had,” Remus laughed, sticking his hands in his pockets, a light blush rising up his neck.

Sirius chuckled. “Oh, this is nothing! Of course, some nights are boring as hell and you end up going out _looking_ for trouble just to break up the monotony, but mostly there’s something to do.”

“Well that’ll be another first for me,” Remus told him, honestly. “I _hate_ confrontation.”

 

+

 

It was hard to say no to a beautiful girl. Peter had always had that problem; there was something about puppy eyes and pouted lips that made him give in completely.

That was how he found himself dancing – _actually dancing_ – and the whole word disappearing as he did. No more Death Eaters, no more deadlines, no more tiredness because he hadn’t actually slept in two nights and was running purely on caffeine and alcohol. Just him and Dorcas in a club called Fever where bright lights reflected off of every surface like the best trip he’d ever been on.

Peter forgot about everything and just lost himself in the music and the dancing and Dorcas because suddenly those things mattered more than _anything_.

He knew he must look like an idiot, bobbing his head up and down, hand in the air as though trying to hail a bus, but nobody cared. Amongst all their pristine beauty and practised professionalism, no one cared that he was a crap dancer, or that he’d never heard any of these songs – the deep strum of rhythm and blues, the perfectly trained, melodious voices that belonged in church choirs – in his life, and that’s what Peter liked most about this place.

And amongst it all, the music and the people and the lights, stood _her_. She was ethereal. She was stunning. She was dancing with _him_.

“You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you?” she said, mouth close to his ear sending shivers down his spine.

“How’d you guess?” he asked

“Well, you’re not a regular around these parts, you don’t look like a Ravenclaw, and no Slytherin would be caught dead in here. So that makes you a Gryffindor,” she gave him a dazzling smile.

“Right,” Peter said, feeling stupid but not knowing what to say. Dorcas didn’t seem to mind, she just smiled again (her smile, he decided, was most definitely his absolute favourite thing about her) and continued moving her hips in a way that made them look like liquid.

He was sure in that moment that he could do anything, _absolutely anything_ , because he was here with her and they were dancing, and he suddenly didn’t feel like his usual bumbling self but rather someone worthy of the attentions of such a beautiful girl. This, he realised, was how James and Sirius must feel all the time. It was a rush. If he leant forward, even a few inches then maybe he could...

Then they were being interrupted; her short, dark haired friend was back, pulling them apart, saying something about meeting ‘the boys’ for doughnuts and coffee and Dorcas Meadowes was offering him a small, sympathetic smile as she let herself be lead off of the dance floor. Peter felt like a string attached to his heart was tugging too fiercely to bear, and he hated that in a moment, just one precious moment, she would be out of the door and out of his life before he even had the chance to get to know her.

Just as she reached the edge of the floor, she turned back.

“You can come if you want.”

Peter didn’t need any further invitation.

 

+

 

“Mister Potter, Miss Evans,” a youngish nurse called, reading the names off of a clipboard and furrowing her brow as she looked around the mostly full emergency room.

“Here,” James replied, standing up carefully so as not to wake Lily who had fallen asleep twenty minutes earlier on his shoulder. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, he would have enjoyed the experience immensely.

“Mister Fenwick is out of surgery. He’s still unconscious, but the doctor believes he’s through the worst,” she told him, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and offering him a small, gentle smile. James wondered distantly whether she was flirting with him, but pushed the notion aside. There were much more important thing to be thinking about.

“Can we see him?” James asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and childishly crossing his fingers beneath the cover of denim.

“Well...” the nurse said, biting her bottom lip and looking back at the swing door she’d just left.

“Please,” James begged, widening his eyes in the way that Sirius claimed made him look like a five year old. “No one else has come to see him, and I bet the police would have called his family if they could’ve. I don’t want him to be on his own when he wakes up.”

The nurse looked conflicted for several moments before sighing. “Alright, I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm. Just make sure you call someone if his condition changes.”

“We will,” James agreed hastily. “Thank you so much, Nurse...?”

“Pomfrey,” she said, holding the clip board coyly to her chest.

“Thank you Nurse Pomfrey.”

As she walked away, James turned back to Lily, shaking her gently by the shoulders.

“Lils, wake up. We can go sit with Benjy.”

“Huh, wha’...James?” she mumbled sleepily, her eyes squinting open and looking adorably confused.

“Yeah, come on Lily, up you get.”

“Oh,” she said, quickly sitting up and taking in her surroundings. “Oh, right, yes. Is he okay?”

“The nurse said they reckon he’s going to be fine. We can go sit with him if we want.”

“Of course,” Lily said, standing up and grabbing for James’ arm to stop herself from stumbling. “Sorry.”

“S’alright,” James told her, wondering how weird it would be if he never washed his arm again.

It had been years since James had been in a hospital room – not since that time Sirius had broken his arm whilst drunkenly dancing on a ten foot wall and James and Pete had sat with him all night singing Bowie songs much to the amusement of the hospital staff. This was different though; they’d known that Sirius was going to be fine, if not a little sore in the morning. James wasn’t even certain that Benjy would wake up.

“God,” Lily said, taking in the broken form of the young boy lying still on the hospital bed; he was just one giant bruise of blues and purples and mottled reds that stood out against the rest of his dangerously pale skin. There was a bandage fixed securely around his head and James remembered the pool of blood that had come from it, biting back a choked cry of his own.

Without saying another word James took one side of the bed whilst Lily took the other, both prepared to wait for as long as it took.

 

+

 

‘The boys’ that Dorcas and her friend, Arabella, had plans to meet turned out to be about the same age as Peter, if not a few years older, and looked extraordinarily preppy and ‘all boys school’ with names like Jeremy and Phillip and Julian. Peter disliked them on sight.

“So, what do you do then, Pete?” one of the guys asked, and Peter forced himself not to roll his eyes. He wondered if they were taught to be pompous from birth of if it was merely a skill they honed with time.

“I’m a writer,” Peter said, taking a sip of his coke and wondering if any of these blokes had actually heard of pubs. The clean-cut, straight-laced thing had to be fake.

“A _writer?_ ” the guy repeated, looking as though the idea amused him. “What do you write exactly?”

“I write music reviews and interviews for _Beatnik_ ,” Peter told him, the constant pride he felt for his job welling up in his chest, though he tried not to let it show in his voice.

“ _Beatnik?_ ” one of the other blokes asked. “That’s quite famous, isn’t it?”

Peter shrugged, “Uh, yeah, I guess.” Bloody idiots, _of course_ it was famous; it was read all over the country by thousands of people.

“Right,” the first guy, Derek, said, “It’s, like, rock music isn’t it? Don’t understand it myself, all that shouting and stuff. Give me The Temptations any day.”

“Yeah,” Arabella chirped, “that’s real music!”

Peter snorted coke out of his nose.

“Sorry,” he muttered, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Well, fine, who’s _your_ favourite group then?” Arabella asked snottily, shooting looks towards Derek who, unsurprisingly, couldn’t keep his eyes off of Dorcas.

“The Who,” Peter told her easily. No question about it. Now, if she’d asked him to give a list of his top ten then that would be much more difficult and would require a notebook, pen, and a list of all the records in his collection, plus those in James and Sirius’.

“Who?” she asked, and Peter turned to look at her, bug eyed.

“ _The Who_ ,” he repeated slowly. “Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey, John Entwistle, Keith Moon? _Seriously?_ ”

Arabella just shrugged and Peter wondered how it was possible to be quite so ignorant of something so important and life affirming as music seemed to him.

“It’s getting late,” Dorcas said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Your dad still enforcing a curfew?” one of the boys asked.

“Yeah, you know how he is,” Dorcas replied with a throwaway smile, taking a final sip of her drink. “If I don’t sneak in before he wakes up he’ll know I’ve been out.”

“I’ll give you a lift,” Derek said, sliding out of the booth and holding out his hand for her. Peter could see Arabella flushing with jealousy out of the corner of his eye and expected he wasn’t faring much better. Dorcas took it lightly and, as if on cue, everyone else stood up too.

Peter wasn’t sure whether to follow them or not. On the one hand, he was completely out of place, the ripped denim to their chinos, the smudged eyeliner to their slicked hair. He’d felt more comfortable being chased across London by a pack a Death Eaters - at least that was a fairly regular occurrence - but this, _this_ was definitely out of his depth. But then, he was only here because of _her_ , and he’d be damned if he didn’t follow the white, glitter road as far as it took him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, taking Dorcas’ hand and steering her a little away from the crowd. “Do you really have to go? I mean, I could always walk you home. I even promise to get you back before your Dad wakes up.”

He smiled cheekily, put all his charm behind it and waited.

“You’re sweet,” she said, “and tonight’s been fun, but I should really go.”

“Can I see you again?” Peter asked, and he knew he sounded desperate.

Dorcas sighed softly and took his hand between her own.

“I don’t think so,” she said, and his heart dropped. “Let’s just think of it as a short and simple memory, yeah?”

“Right,” he said, “okay.”

“Great.” She leant up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he said quietly, and watched as she got in the car.

“She does this a lot, you know.”

Peter turned around to find Arabella watching him, her mouth curled into a frown.

“Does what?”

“Picks up guys from different crowds. And they fall all over her, of course, because everyone does, only when the night’s over she goes back to her perfect, clean life full of perfect, clean boys, and forgets all about them. You’re nothing special.” She almost sounded sorry, and Peter thought that maybe they were more alike than he’d believed, both of them lost in someone else’s shadow.

“Right,” he said, and he was pretty sure he heart was lodged somewhere in his knees now.

“Right,” she echoed, and then followed her friends, leaving Peter to hate everything alone. He could really use those Death Eaters around now - punching something sounded fantastic.

 

+

 

James didn’t know how long he’d dozed off for, but Lily’s hands shaking his shoulder woke him up with a jolt.

“What happened?” he said frantically, and it wasn’t until he realised Lily was smiling that his heart rate began to even out.

“The doctor just came by,” she said, and James wasn’t sure that she’d ever looked at him so warmly before. “Benjy’s going to be alright; he’s just sleeping. And they got a call from his mum; she was visiting relatives in Brighton and didn’t know anything until one of their neighbours noticed the police knocking on the door and found a contact number for her. She’s on her way now.”

“Thank _Merlin_ ,” James said, and Lily nodded in agreement.

Nurse Pomfrey popped her head ‘round the doorframe, giving them both a soft smile.

“You two should probably be off now,” she said. “Before anyone notices the broken rules.”

“Thank you,” James said to her, sincerely, and blushed a little as she winked at him.

“I think she likes you,” Lily said, amused, and James laughed.

“Yeah, but there’s only one girl for me.”

Lily smiles, and James felt his heart jolt.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

The hospital waiting room was mostly empty as they left, just a couple of young lads who looked like they’d been in a fight, and night air hit them hard as they walked outside.

“I’ll get you a cab,” James said, his eyes scanning the area. “Get you home safely.”

Any other night she would probably scold him for thinking of her as a damsel in distress, but they were both drained, physically and emotionally, so instead she nodded and wrapped her cardigan tightly around her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” James said after Lily had rattled off her address to the driver.

“Yeah,” she said, sliding into the back seat. Just before she closed the door she looked back up at him and seemed to come to a decision about something.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” she said, and James wondered if maybe he was still asleep and dreaming because she couldn’t have said what he thought she’d said.

“What?” he asked, dumbly, pinching himself as subtly as he could.

Lily laughed, and it was as beautiful as ever.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yes please,” he said, and then winced.

Lily didn’t mock him though, she just watched him with soft eyes and shut the door.

James didn’t move until the cab was out of sight, and then he went back into the hospital to try and sweet talk Benjy’s contact information out of the nurses. Just to be sure.

 

+

 

“Tonight’s been fun,” Remus said as they slowly walked with nowhere in mind, hands in pockets.

The sky had lightened to a dusty navy and the streets were mostly empty, quiet and still. Sirius wondered if Remus missed the stars yet, if that was something he’d even consider, and then wanted to laugh at himself for thinking about it in the first place.

“Thanks for taking me along tonight,” Remus said, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders. “I know it can’t be much fun showing the new guy the ropes.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sirius said, sounding too vehement. He softened his voice. “It was great. I like hanging out with you.”

“I like hanging out with you, too,” Remus said, his voice a little quiet, a little hesitant, and it made Sirius wonder…

“Look, tell me to bugger off or whatever,” he said, “but I figure it’s worth a shot.”

Then he leant forward and pressed his lips against Remus’.

He was close enough that he felt the way Remus froze and then relaxed, breathing into the kiss gently, and Sirius wanted everything from him, wanted to give everything of himself, and it was terrifying and wonderful at once.

He knew he was grinning like an idiot as they pulled away, but he didn’t particularly care.

“That’s another first,” Remus said, and Sirius could feel the words across his own lips making his skin thrum.

“Tonight’s just full of them,” he said softly, and reached out to slide his hand across Remus’ hip.

Remus smiled, soft and sweet at the contact, and Merlin, Sirius couldn’t believe how far gone he was for this guy already. He was about to lean in again when Remus looked away, his eyes narrowing carefully.

“Hey, isn’t that Pete?” he said with a frown, pointing off to their right, and Sirius turned around squinting his eyes to get a better look. A group of Death Eaters were pounding on some poor guy who was putting up one hell of a fight, and as he was thrown against a wall Sirius realised that Remus was right.

“Shit,” he said, and took off at a run.

Everything became a blur of hits and kicks and blood then; Sirius swung his fists indiscriminately, feeling a jolt of relief every time they connected. He could see Pete kicking out at the bastard who had him in a headlock, and at one point he watched Remus’ fist connect against some blokes nose with a sickening crunch.

His head was thumping, his lip was bleeding, and he was pretty sure he had a bruise the size of Australia on his left thigh, but he didn’t stop, just kept moving, constantly reacting. It wasn’t until the sound of sirens perforated their surroundings that they begun to slow down, not stopping, not until the Death Eaters offered them a final glare and took off with a cautious glance - for however tough they were, they couldn’t afford to be caught by the cops, preferring the flight option to a possible night in the nick.

Sirius pulled at Remus’ arm, mentally taking note of any injuries, relieved to find nothing except a few scrapes and a puffy cheek, and made sure they were safely out of the way of the sirens before pausing and leaning up against a wall, Pete beside him.

“You alright?” Sirius asked.

“Physically, yeah,” Pete said with a bitter sigh. “Cheers for that. It’s been one hell of a night.”

“Yeah, well, you were doing alright without our help. Come on, let’s get back to the office and dig out the first aid kit.”

It wasn’t far to _Beatnik_ ; it only took them ten minutes even beaten and limping, and there were still a few lights on as they fell through the doors. Sirius left the other two to head to their office whilst he found bandages and antiseptic and a bottle of whisky someone had hidden at the back of the draw.

Alone, he took a minute to compose his thoughts. It felt like so much had happened in just one night, most of it revolving around Remus, and maybe tomorrow everything would be different, maybe there was just something in the air of after hours, but he didn’t care, couldn’t think much further than what it had felt like to have Remus pressed so close against him.

He’d take everything else as it came.

 

+

 

“It’s just a scratch,” Peter said, wincing away from Sirius as he dabbed antiseptic on his leg.

“Shut up and sit still,” Sirius said, and Remus smiled as Peter rolled his eyes.

“Thanks again for bailing me out back there, though. Seriously.”

“Of course. That’s what friends are for,” Sirius said, concentrating on wrapping a bandage, and missing the way Peter’s face brightened a little at his words. Remus wondered whether Peter maybe didn’t hear them enough, and vowed to make sure it happened more often.

The door opened and James wandered in, looking just as much like hell as the rest of them only with less bruises.

“What the fuck happened to you lot?” he said, dropping into his chair and resting his head in his arms.

“Fight with Death Eaters,” Sirius replied, and James let out a hum of sympathy. “Another first for Remus.”

Sirius looked up and caught his eye, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and Remus felt his heart speed up as they shared their private joke. Another first indeed.

“So,” James said, sounding exhausted. “How was everyone’s night?”

“The Great Hall was awesome,” Remus said, and he didn’t mention the rest, didn’t think now was the time, but he couldn’t help replaying it in his head anyway.

“Met a girl, lost a girl,” Peter said.

“Shit,” Sirius said, patting Peter’s arm. “How about you Jim?”

“Saw a kid get run over, sat with him at the hospital all night ‘till we knew he’d be alright, then got asked out by Lily.”

Peter and Sirius stared at him in surprise.

“Double shit,” Peter said eventually, and then started laughing, and it sounded desperate and relieved at once, and it wasn’t long before they were all joining in, letting the night fall away.

After they’d all finally calmed down, James turned to Remus. “So,” he said. “One hell of a first night. D’you think you’re going to be okay here?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, looking at the three of them and smiling with certainty. “Yeah, I think I am.”

 

  
**the end.**   



End file.
